Tue, 20 Feb 2018 15:28:49 -0800WeeblyWed, 24 Jan 2018 23:33:55 GMThttp://www.takegoodcareofyouwellness.com/blog/getting-my-act-together-finally​Last night I had a dinner that felt good to my body and that I felt proud of.It took days and lots of preparation to have this simple, wholesome meal.

Last week, I made a new batch of fermented vegetables, which took about three days to ferment to the point of having a tasty, tangy bite due to the freshly squeezed lemon juice, grated garlic and ginger I added.

Six days ago, I started soaking my quinoa for fermented quinoa, to which I added some of the brine from the fermented vegetables.

​Four days ago I cooked a batch of bone broth from local, free-range and naturally fed cows.

Three days ago I grated a head of cauliflower to have a stash of riced cauliflower to serve as a rice-subsitute bed for vegetable dishes.

Two days ago, I ground white and black mustard seeds and let them soak in spring water that I had collected that morning outside my home. Later I added some pineapple vinegar, which I had made in the Fall. I added some organic turmeric and sea salt from the region and soon had a homemade mustard condiment.

Rainbow veggies ready to ferment

​So last night, I cooked the fermented quinoa in the bone broth. I pan fried a piece of wild caught Alaskan salmon till the skin was crispy and topped it with mustard.

Salad was local organic red curly leaf lettuce over which I drizzled cold pressed olive oil made regionally, and a sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper and sea salt.

On top of the quinoa, a dollop of fermented vegetables.

For dessert, I put little pieces of pure dark chocolate on top of thick sweet potato slices I had pressure cooked in the morning. Yummy.

It all felt good going in and down as I sat on my terrace taking in the golden light slowly turning orange on the mountains. I had been getting all the pieces together for incorporating low lectin foods into the way I eat day by day and all at once, I had the pieces to assemble a nice, simple meal.

Proud and satisfied I complimented myself on finally getting my act together. Immediately my smile faded as I cocked my head wondering, “Is this how life is? We work hard for a long time at all the many pieces and then one day, all of a sudden, we have everything prepared and in place for us to be and live how we have been wanting?” I remained at this landing spot for a moment. “Wow, am I there?” I thought, hopefully. I nodded “No.” Experience has shown me there are moments of culmination and perceived “perfection”, where we have a glorious view from where we’ve been climbing and unexpectedly find ourselves. Then, life moves on. Soon it will be cold or dark. Something runs out, goes bad, or we realize new needs that require our work to satisfy.

I got it together for one meal. I’m going to enjoy the view from the mountain while I’m here. Tomorrow I’ll chop more vegetables for fermenting, roast cocao beans and grind them in a mortar and pestle for chocolate avocado truffles to share with friends, and cook the lentils that are sprouting in a bowl on my counter.

Followed by "Dialogue" by Chicago. To which I've been dancing, singing, crying, smiling and acting out.

This song rocks and it's words are true.I urge you to dwell in the positive. What you imagine and project with feeling, happens.

Give it a listen, make your decision, and see how your day and world changes.I'd love to hear from you, let me know how it goes!​xxoo

]]>Thu, 21 Sep 2017 01:44:39 GMThttp://www.takegoodcareofyouwellness.com/blog/earthquake-post-shockI'm struck by the triviality of my life. The tabs open on my computer when the earthquake hit included: Shopping for a new backpack because the one I have is faded and sags and has some holes. Then, a page that explains something I recall hearing about: using vinegar to wash and disinfect veggies. Finally, how to remove rust stains from clothes. And I think my life is meaningful.

Such are the concerns of a life with so much abundance and freedom it can spill over into decadence and mis-led energy investments.

When I finally made it out my door in my pink clogs and the ground had stopped shaking I called for my landlady who lives on the same property to know if she was okay. She was fine and wanted to go see what the horrible deep rumble had been, maybe a house had fallen. We went out to the street and neighbors were talking. A house that is being built across the street had cracks in some of the lower adobe bricks. Would they have to start over from scratch, I wondered? The men who had been working on the second floor told about how they couldn't get down for the shaking and wondered if the house would crumble and them with it.

Maria came back minutes later from down the road in the direction of the deep rumble and said that part of the mountain that faces us had broken off. Soon, her sister came crying, holding a plastic cup with a swig of jerez in it, sharing with Maria that their other sister's house had fallen. While Maria went in to get her house keys her sister turned into my arms for an embrace. They went off to see about Rosa's house.

I stood in the middle the street talking to various neighbors, some of whom I did not know, all of us sharing stories and agreeing on the degree of shaking and fright, and realized, "I'm not enough part of the community. I don't know my neighbors. I need to get out more, make more of an effort to interact with the people." In this moment of survival standing at the crossroads I saw: what matters is community and love. That's all.

I went to buy emergency supplies in Inez's tienda, just in case. She showed me where a wall had separated from the ceiling, revealing old timber. Then she told me about the church cupula and how it was damaged. We stood in the doorway together and I noted with sadness the poignantly crooked cross on top of the dome. Behind it, in the distance, laventana, a sacred natural "window" high on top of the mountain. Inez told me, "All during the earthquake I was worried about our dear ventana, would it be alright?" The ventana is intact, but in our village and nearby towns, the poor crosses are eschew. As with all the natural disasters lately, with the crooked crosses it seems blatantly significant. I wonder, "What would it mean to right the crosses in a way that they felt heard, understood and respected? And our dear Earth?"

The darkness of night comes, the electricity is back and with it, internet. Many people have contacted me with concern, wanting to know if I was affected by the earthquake. I'm okay, physically. My house suffered minimal damage - a few adobe bricks and clay shingles fell off the top of the house. Being well, safe and sound I'm faced with "and now what?" How do I continue or live, now? Now that the work I was completely immersed in before this seems stupid? Now that I have nothing but time and freedom and the utter uncertainty of "Will another earthquake come and will I get out in time?"

I'm given another day. I decide I will go into the nearby town to see how life is there now, and to get some things on the errand list made before the earthquake, including:• Food items based on preparation for some days away that who knows if that will even happen?• Take a couple things to the woman who periodically does sewing for me?

It seemed ridiculous to think of putting new elastic into my pajama bottoms and skirt at a time like this, when people are trapped in buildings, dead, dying or hurt in other pueblos. I called her anyhow, rationalizing that at a minimum it was to see how she and her family were. We talked a long time and she said, "Yes, do come, it will be good to share a hug at a time like this." So I went, telling myself that in the name of my realization about the importance of community and love, this could be a meeting whose significance I didn't yet know.

Walking along the cobble stone street near Oliva's house I saw a huge hole in the ground. "If an earthquake comes right now, I'll need to be sure to try to steer far from it," I noted. Raindrops began to fall and a skinny young dog contorted itself trying to fit into a sheltered doorway. I wondered if she was seeking shelter because she had susto too, or whether she was calm and in the present moment and would have sought shelter anyhow. "If an earthquake comes now while I'm walking here on this street where I don't know anyone, is this a place I'd want to have that experience?" I thought. It hardly seemed worth leaving home. "Yet home is no guarantee of safety, either," I realized.

Back in my village, all sorts of dogs are greeting me. I'm stopping to pet and speak sweetly to them, giving them the attention and praise for existing that they always deserved. I'm trying to send love to the earth and all her creatures. I have a vision of being a pillar of light and love, and it's scary to risk feeling so much while cognizant of the utter vulnerability of life. I am not a solid thing that will be here forever, that veil is gone. Do I return to my preoccupations with laundry and deadlines or be in this tender time with open and gaping heart for all the loss and fear of more frightening, dangerous, potentially painful endings? What I need is to seek among the rubble of my shakiness and incertitude the Divine and abide there. That and to go out onto the streets to connect with the folks in my midst.

]]>Wed, 05 Jul 2017 01:03:13 GMThttp://www.takegoodcareofyouwellness.com/blog/file-under-the-category-of-its-all-true-and-its-all-goodAll my growing up years of being an art student, it was always with the attitude of being a learner, with the acceptance of the unspoken rule that assumes I don't know and the teacher does. This at least sets the stage for openness to receive new information, which is a great thing.

I remember painting class in college with "Foose," enjoying and prospering from being there with "beginners mind". Recently, I've taken up drawing and painting again. My teacher, Bárbara generously offered to come to my house to see the work I've been doing prior to our first class in her studio so that she could see what I'm working on and producing and where and how she might be most helpful to my development.

She considered each piece silently with much consideration and finally would offer some suggestions in a complimentary and respectful way. One of her suggestions had to do with her perception that certain parts of a couple of the paintings stood out in ways that separated them from the rest of the piece. She advised me to lower the tone in these parts so that the colors were more equal in intensity compared to the rest of the piece.

With my background in graphic design, I found this surprising and counter to my training, whose instructions were around the importance of being aware of and creating visual hierarchy in each piece. I told Bárbara this, but she disagreed and I agreed to comply with each of her suggestions - this was "art" after all, not graphic design.

Dutifully, I changed the brilliant almost chartreuse green of the abstract flower pot to a more subdued grass green. I had been a "good girl", checked the task off my list, and rehung the painting. Similarly with the other piece, I muted the yellow star at the fist of the up-reaching figure to match the hue of the blues in the background.That was three months ago and since then I have taken down and re-touched the green and the yellow three times, ever the open-minded student, exploring. This is good. I honor myself and this attitude. Today, however, I paid attention to my persistent quiet grief for the loss of the outrageous green that so vivaciously contrasted the hot red-pink-orange floppy amaryllis petals. Today I honored the sad feeling of having given myself away each time I glimpse the powerful figure reaching and connecting with the force of the Universe only to conduct a dull yellow starburst of energy, rather than the brilliant explosion of yellow-gold which is my experience.

I didn't even take the paintings off the wall this time. I reapplied a fifth layer of paint over the pot and the star - returning them to their original brilliance. And so I ask myself: at what point does the student know enough to listen to themselves and do what they like and know and feel and prefer?

That's where I arrive at "It's all good, It's all right," because life is that impossible-to-permanently-define waving fabric of energy. Yes, it's good to be a student and arrive with open mind and heart, available to learn and grow and change. And, we are also designed at some point or points in our lives, to become authorities. Maybe not over others, but certainly and at least some times, in the realms of our own lives. Breaking away from rules, from the structure of paradigms we've agreed to follow loyally is at some ironic moment, our purpose and our task. This is where all innovation, genius, and even religions come from: someone's original idea or their own take and twist on tradition.

Philosophically, there is no "always be the student until a certain point" and "always be the authority after some certain other point." And there is no mistake in choosing to be student or authority in any given situation. Each choice will lead somewhere, will afford us some experience. As I learned on one of my Healing Quests when I was a practicing Hopi: There are no mistakes, only consequences.

Of course there are always questions like, "Does being the student/authority in this situation serve me?" The learning and questioning can go on infinitely. Believe me, as a stalwart perfectionist, and a current re-wirer of my limbic system, I have realized that the questions can go on forever, seemingly with great purpose and importance. I have discovered, however, that they are creations of my mind and like toys, have kept me occupied, but truly lacking in essential value. In other words, optional.

So, life's a game. That's all and that's it. We can't help but play, and since we are the creators (at least this is the illusion,) and there is no right or wrong, I feel joyful and scared as I step tenuously onto the waving fabric of "the matrix" as if stepping onto the court and saying, "I'm in."

On a visit to my grandparents in Miami Beach, I opened a drawer that was full of pill containers. I counted seventy. Having listened to their medical complaints for years, I understood that one medication would create symptoms requiring another medication, which would create more side effects, necesitating a new medication, and so on. I saw my grandparents not getting better but getting worse through medical care. When I shared opinions like this with my dad, who was a General Practitioner, he reacted spitefully.

He had been my buddy. I counted on his loving presence. Now we argued. I felt abandoned, attacked and disrespected. I challenged the ideas he had invested in to become a respected medical professional. While vehemently expressing my beliefs, inwardly I was waiting for his approval of my thoughts, ideas and burgeoning spirituality. I lived many years with one foot on the brake.

At college, I spent a semester studying the history and evolution of Modern Medicine. I came across the term “Iatrogenesis,” which describes the experience I saw my grandparents embedded in. The term was validating to my perceptions and I wondered, “Were they victims, or did they consciously choose this type of approach to their health?” As part of my research I interviewed several doctors and became clear about the dynamic that was being played out between doctors and their patients.

I saw doctors as invested in modern scientific thinking, applied to the body. Modern science had led to technology, fueled by the desire to control nature. Science was about finding facts which would not change. Applying conclusions about physical reality onto the health or lack thereof in the human body made our bodies A. a matter of “fact” which would not allow for individuality or spiritual, energetic causes for ill health and B. made medical care a matter for the few experts who had studied hard to gain these facts and apply them to ridding your body of symptoms.

In our patriarchal culture, the relationship between doctor and patient is one of authority vs. powerlessness. Generally, patients are not invited to ask questions nor to doubt or deny treatment suggestions. Actually, the unspoken agreement is that the doctor tells them what to do and they do it. This is not just the fault of the doctors. To be fair, patients agree (albeit unconsciously) to this dynamic, which is one of disrespect, is unhealthy for society and imposes and perpetuates an incomplete paradigm of reality and relationship.

We have been brainwashed to fear and doubt modalities that differ from modern medicine. Even health insurance companies won’t readily support treatments such as acupuncture or naturopathy, let alone Reiki or massage.

I see our culture as being predominantly under the influence of western scientific thinking, which I call the Masculine (which is not necessarily male.) The desire to control nature arose from the desire to obliterate the spirituality inherent in religion in Europe. If “Man” has more power than “God”, then it is “Man” and all that has given him (the illusion of) control that is to be followed and feared. This led directly to the attitude of doctors towards patients, and patients, being God- (and Man) fearing, acquiesed.

What did we, when in the role of being patients give up? What I call the Feminine, which includes invisible (non provable) knowing and reality through intuition, feeling, personal experience, self-trust, connection to nature and non-physical energies as valid for guidance and information.

I am not against modern medicine. I am grateful it exists. I use it when I need to. I am not against left brain linear thinking and the use of data. I find it stimulating and sometimes useful, though am growing to believe it is overrated for living as a whole person.

What I am against is people not realizing they have options. We may know conceptually that there are many modalities, but do we actually believe we could choose them? I am against us as patients (that means people with bodies that will at times have challenging symptoms) believing they have no choice in how they percieve and choose to deal with their health.

This is what originally ignited my passion to become a Health and Wellness Coach: I wanted to help people be aware and empowered to consider and make their own decisions for their own health. Knowing how difficult this is, as we have no foundation nor support for this type of thinking, I wanted to support people in their awakening and journey of taking care of their bodies in ways that they felt good about. I wanted to offer support that would bolster their courage to stand up to doctors and ask questions, insist on satisfactory replies, and to say no when they chose.​This is scary for a couple of reasons. 1. It is saying “No,” to that scary God-type authority figure, complete with terror about what might happen if we displease Him and are thrown from the protection and safety He promises. 2. What is the protection we fear being cast out of if we deny the treatments offered us? It’s the protection against Death, the enemy. Death, the thing to be fought and conquered at all costs.

I was born on Day of the Dead, a Mexican holiday that honors deceased loved ones by creating altars of their favorite foods and vices to entice their spirits to come pay a visit. I love the wholeness that this holiday represents. While occuring on the same date as Halloween, this holiday is devoid of the scary aspect of that day of ghosts and monsters in the states. In Mexico, Day of the Dead is an honoring of an aspect of the cycle of Life, reframing Life as a cycle, encompassing every aspect of existence vs. the opposite of death.

As I had dreamed, I have become a Health and Wellness Coach. I will tell you a secret that is perhaps obvious: the issues I am passionate to help others with are the most challenging issues for me. In dealing with my own body and in relationships in general, I have felt paralyzed with fear of speaking up for myself, trusting my own sense of what’s good for me. Doing so would risk being cast out, rejected and alone - for being who I am. You may be surprised, especially if you’ve read my bio, that I have needed and continue to need various forms of support to be willing to live from my inner truth, health-related and otherwise. The masculine/feminine imbalance and battle I perceive outside, lives within. I seek to re-establish feminine empowerment within myself. This does not deny the masculine, incidentally. Feminine and masculine are aspects of duality, they are qualities, not genders and we all embody some measure of each. My work is to rise up against that which would try to scare and threaten me for listening within, trusting, and living from there. I embody these cultural dynamics inside me as an individual and as a woman.​

carriangelphotography.com

As I heal myself, the world heals too. The witches burned rise up from the ashes to retake their place of wisdom, respect and appropriate power. The false stories about their invalidity and simultaneous (think about that!) dangerousness, dissolve. As we heal ourselves, the world is restored to healthy balance between physical and non-physical, masculine and feminine. We increasingly work with, not over Nature. Everything changes, from education, to politics, to the way we live and are in relationship with ourselves, one another, and the planet.

How do you relate to what I've written here? What comes up for you that is new or old, illuminating or disturbing? I invite you to share. I read every comment and respond.

]]>Wed, 27 Jul 2016 14:41:12 GMThttp://www.takegoodcareofyouwellness.com/blog/throw-away-your-supplementsToday I am inspired to share with you an article which one one level, challenges us to rethink vitamins. On another level, it brings up many questions and deeper issues, which share as an invitation to re-claim or claim for the first time - our power and validity as decision-makers for our own health and wellness.

​I’m not a big fan of supplements. I’ve always believed that it’s preferable to get the nutrients we need from whole foods, as they’re found in nature, rather than from isolated, synthetic sources (i.e. supplements).

Unfortunately, modern medicine is obsessed with isolated, synthetic nutrients and has convinced itself that they have the same beneficial properties as nutrients found in whole foods.

A gigantic dietary supplement industry has arisen from this misguided belief. A 2006 National Institute of Health (NIH) conference (PDF) revealed that 20-30% of Americans use a multivitamin daily, forking over $23 billion a year to supplement manufacturers for the privilege. Many more Americans effectively take a multivitamin by eating fortified grain products, like Shredded Wheat cereal and Wonder Bread.

Most supplements don’t workWith these statistics in mind, you might be surprised (or even shocked) to learn that clinical trials have shown that most of these supplements not only don’t work as intended, they actually make things worse. The NIH conference examined the efficacy of 13 vitamins and 15 essential minerals as reported in long-term, randomized clinical trials.

First the positive results:

A combo of calcium and vitamin D was shown to increase bone mineral density and reduce fracture risk in postmenopausal women.

There was some evidence that selenium reduces risk of certain cancers.

Um, not too impressive considering the near universal faith considering how many people are popping these pills on a daily basis.

Now for the negative results:

Trials of niacin (B3), folate, riboflavin (B2), and vitamins B6 and B12 showed no positive effect on chronic disease occurrence in the general population

There was no evidence to recommend beta-carotene and some evidence that it may cause harm in smokers.

High-dose vitamin E supplementation increased the risk of death from all causes.

Then there’s the now infamous JAMA meta-analysis on antioxidants. They looked at 68 trials with over 230,000 participants. Here’s what they found:Treatment with beta carotene, vitamin A, and vitamin E may increase mortality. The potential roles of vitamin C and selenium on mortality need further study.

Oops!

(Re)-introducing the concept of food synergy It’s crazy to me that so many health care practitioners – both conventional and alternative – tell their patients to take multivitamins and antioxidants when their is little support for that position in the medical literature.

That’s why I was so happy to come across a study in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition addressing this issue. It’s called “Food synergy: an operational concept for understanding nutrition.” I’m relieved to learn that there are researchers working in the nutrition field that don’t buy into the synthetic nutrient hype, and understand the importance of whole food.Here are some passages from that article:A person or animal eating a diet consisting solely of purified nutrients in their Dietary Reference Intake amounts, without benefit of the coordination inherent in food, may not thrive and probably would not have optimal health. This review argues for the primacy of food over supplements in meeting nutritional requirements of the population.Here the authors congratulate science on the discovery of fundamental nutrients such as vitamin C, and clarifying their role in health and disease. The realization that scurvy is caused by vitamin C deficiency has saved a lot of lives. But, the approach to nutrition that is fundamentally guided by nutrients has a dark side:

The aspect of science that reduces to fundamental principles, however, can lead to oversimplification and ultimately stifle understanding and progress.

Translation: reductionistic thinking can get us in trouble if we’re not careful.

The concept of food synergy is based on the proposition that the interrelations between constituents in foods are significant. This significance is dependent on the balance between constituents within the food, how well the constituents survive digestion, and the extent to which they appear biologically active at the cellular level.It makes me so happy to see this in a major, peer-reviewed journal. The authors go on to define several aspects of food synergy:

A buffer effect, i.e. the effect of a large intake of a particular nutrient may vary depending on if it is taken in concentrated form or as part of a whole food.

Nutrients can affect each other’s absorption, such as copper-zinc and magnanese-iron. These interdependent nutrients tend to appear together in foods, but not necessarily in isolated supplements.

It matters whether the nutrients have been produced by technologic or biological processes. Trans fat produced in ruminant animals (such as conjugated linoleic acids in dairy products) are beneficial to health, whereas trans fats produced in the processing of industrial seed oils are highly toxic.

Then they provide evidence that whole foods are more effective than supplements in meeting nutrient needs:

Tomato consumption has a greater effect on human prostrate tissue than an equivalent amount of lycopene.

Whole pomegranates and broccoli had greater antiproliferative and in vitro chemical effects than did some of their individual constituents.

Free radicals were reduced by consumption of brassica vegetables, independent of micronutrient mix.

Note: In the supplement world, the idea is that “a nutrient is a nutrient, a molecule is a molecule” regardless of what source it comes from. These folks claim that it doesn’t matter whether a nutrient comes from a whole food complex or a laboratory. Did you know that most vitamin B1 supplements are made from derivatives of coal tar? That ascorbic acid (vitamin C) is made by reacting high-fructose corn syrup with sulfuric acid? That many iron supplements are made from rusty nails? I don’t know about you, but I’d rather eat some meat and vegetables to get those nutrients.

Should we all take a daily multivitamin as “insurance” against a nutrient deficiency? Here’s how the authors respond to that question:In our view, the better “insurance” would be to eat food with a broad coverage of nutrients and take no supplements at all, unless they are deemed necessary to fix a specific medical problem.

I love the challenge in this article. I don’t know about you, but I easily get caught up in:

1. The intellectualization of health as a purely scientific, one size fits all formula or worse, an impossibly complex combination of factors and changing theories that confound me and lead me into fear, which surely is not serving my health.2. Giving power for what is good for me to people I don’t know and who don’t know me. I’m alone at my computer doing internet research on multiple sites by supposed experts who all have their own perspective and conclusions. How do I know what they say is good for me? How do I decide? What about relationship as part of our wellness path? Or perhaps we have a doctor we work with who tells us how many mg of calcium, for instance, to take twice a day. This is an interesting one and leads to the power of faith. In my documentary short, “The Curandera of Teotitlan del Valle”, the traditional healer emphasizes the essencial factor of faith in healing. Maybe our allopathic medical practitioner only had one semester of nutrition in medical school, but we give them power and they assert it. Not necessarily bad. If one is in line with what one chooses to have faith in, by feeling in harmony and resonance with it, this will help or allow for healing via the relationship and interaction with that practitioner, whether M.D., traditional healer or nutritionist. In a sense this is a placebo effect.3. Believing there is a “right” actual answer for me that I need to find and figure out and do in order to be well.4. Making financial commitments without thinking through my values. The expense of being dependent on so many supplements that I read about for my own health. Is it sustainable economically for me? Do I want to have to work to have enough money to support this habit? (Not that some medications and supplements aren’t and can’t be helpful and crucial. I am not talking about all or nothing thinking.) What about food? Why don’t I believe in the power of food, especially organically grown in nutrient rich soil?5. The fear that if I don’t take all the supplements I read about that I won’t be well. If thought has power, then is thinking like this helpful to me?6. Another aspect of external solutions, external authorities is, is it true that I have no natural knowing or inborn right to be considered an authority if not the best authority regarding what is good for me? What food, thoughts, beliefs and activities feel good to me? Why can’t what feels good be a valid cue to what is good? Of course one needs to be discerning around the sensation of feeling good: is it grounded and trustworthy or is it escapist, as in feeling good temporarily from eating half a box of oreo cookies in one sitting? But where is intuition and internal knowing as valid and real in making decisions for our health and healing?

These are the questions I have grappled with for my entire adult life, and it’s largely why I was drawn to be a Health and Wellness Coach: I want to help others with what is so important to me because these are important (and challenging) issues that illustrate deep and historic cultural, philosophic, gender and spiritual issues which have informed many of our lives without us even realizing it. The bottom line being: we have bought a story that says we have no power and we are not wise. We are dependent on others to define reality, goodness and rightness for us, and that’s how it is. My purpose in coaching these issues is to challenge this and to facilitate, guide and support clients find their way to their inner truth, power and the trust of that.

What do you think about these issues?Could it be that supplements aren’t as good as we’re told and believe?Does it not matter whether science now says they are not overall so effective because what matters is what we believe?How do you feel about what you believe? Why do you believe in what you believe: does it come from acceptance of an external authority, or from a grounded sense, or a combination of these – and are you comfortable with that or does it invite reflection and re-consideration?

I'd love to hear your thoughts on these issues. I read every comment and will respond!

]]>Tue, 07 Jun 2016 21:05:20 GMThttp://www.takegoodcareofyouwellness.com/blog/the-power-of-the-word-vulnerabilityToday I want to share about something that I have fought most of my life and yet have just experienced how subject to it I am: The Power of the Word.

When I was fifteen, I had an awakening on many levels. One of these was a keen awareness and anger towards modern medicine. In particular, the power it asserts and takes from those in need.

The left brain scientific approach to health seemed limited and arrogant to me. The patriarchal, “I know and you don’t” attitude hurt my sensibilities and angered me. “What about intution and other ways of knowing?” I raged.

My father, a General Pracitioner, and I had countless arguments on the subject, a painful thorn during much of my life. I studied the history and evolution of modern medicine at college and later made a documentary about Doctor/Patient relationships and the importance of communication. (Read about “Like Rembrandt Draperies: A Portrait of Cathy Tingle” at http://www.takegoodcareofyouwellness.com/rembrandt-draperies-documentary.html.)

What I have fought for and against has been a personal battle with different aspects of myself. I want people to own their power especially in the context of health and medical care. I have kept away from allopathic doctors as much as possible, in part to avoid my feeling of powerlessness in relation to what they might say to me. I have seen loved ones come back from the doctor with a diagnosis that is more like a death-sentence. When I hear “I have X” or “I have to take Y medication,” I cringe. Where is your power? I want to scream. Why have you given it away? Believing those words may make them true when they might not have to be true. I shake my head in pity, disappointment, anger, and bottom line: judgement.

I do believe in those ideas, but why are they so important to me? Because I do fear the power of the word and the masculine whom I have granted power to define and decide. Because I do fear the helplessness and uncontrollable fact of my death.

I recently felt moved to have a variety of medical tests. The results were frightening. I asked my doctor if I was dying. I spent the next couple of weeks virtually home-bound, doing research and confronting that no matter what I chose or choose to do or not do about these “conditions” I will die, sooner or later. I can force no guarantee. I do not and cannot control life. I am human, subject to everything everyone else is inescapably vulnerable to. Basically, like my dad, who I regarded with disdain for his lack of spirituality, I’m scared to death of death. Even more, I’m terrified of life and living and vulnerability and imperfection. My choice is to continue as I have, denying and berating so many parts of myself – and possibly and probably contributing to if not creating actual illness, or, give in, put the club down, fire the old ways that I developed out of pain and hurt and anger and fear, and show up like y’all. Messy, emotional, and – well, what I always wanted, really – to be in my body. In my self. Living truly and authentically as who I really am. Warts and all, as my sister says.

First is to accept my own warts. So I look in the mirror every day and tell myself “I love you and you’re good enough.”

The power of the word, or in this case, numbers, had me reacting as if “This is it: the conversation I’ve been dreading my whole adult life. You have X.”

If I had been told I had only six months, what would I have done, spent the next six months in panic, conducting research? I have experienced my worst fear, emotionally speaking. The truth is, I feel quite well. If I hadn’t gotten all these tests and seen all these numbers with their assigned meaning, I never would have known. I would have continued along hiking, playing basketball, doing yoga, eating what I eat. Instead, I developed heart palpatations and a sore throat. Would I have experienced these symptoms anyways, or are they evidence of the potential effect of the word, given power?

I may be alone in my experience, or I may be a model for change. Either way, I cannot, I will not pretend not to be suceptible. I am. I did what I did. I am where I am. There’s no going back. I’m still here. That’s how it is. While my ego is lying down in shock and disorientation, another aspect of me, a part that is growing, and that I am nurturing, is truly grateful for this push that I needed, into life and living.]]>Sun, 22 May 2016 22:33:56 GMThttp://www.takegoodcareofyouwellness.com/blog/meditation-meets-life

At night there was an insect buzzing around me. I felt irritated and tried to spot it to kill it if it was a mosquito without success. Fortunately I was able to fall asleep. In the morning I awoke and heard it again. Where was it? Still no sight of the annoyance. Before doing my yoga I opened the curtain and window hoping to tempt the little insect to the screen where mosquitos like to sit when daylight comes. If the bug were to rest there it would be easy to smash it with my hand.

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After yoga I sat for my meditation and prayer. Midway through I heard the annoying high pitched noise and thought to pause, open my eyes, get up and see if it was indeed on the screen where I could kill it, stopping it’s annoying noise once and for all. I actually decided not to get up and kill the insect, choosing to forgo the momentary satisfaction of the kill, followed by the momentary sense of ill-conscience that I had mercilessly killed a being, which would be followed by moving on to the next thing. I returned to focusing on my practice, which started to go well with a new sense of peacefulness. I finished my session. Standing up to put the mat, blocks and candle away I noticed a darkish spot on the rug by the window. Leaning closer I saw it was a fly. The fly. It had been a fly not a mosquito all along. It was dead.There was something bothering me so much I wanted to kill it to make it go away.I saw this and chose not to act on it as would be my habit.The annoyance ceased and died a natural death without me annhilating it.How do you like that? Things which disturb us really do pass on their own, even if we don’t do anything to make that happen.Meditation is life.

I got home and while putting things away decided to keep the door open, although I knew it meant flies could enter, whose tone I find irritating. A noisy fly entered and bounced its buzz all around and I got up to close the door. Immediately I felt a calm. “Now I’m contained.” And that’s when I realized: a house is a womb.

What About Wombs?

I don’t think I liked being in my mother’s womb.I didn’t feel at home growing up with my family or my culture.I remember when I was unhappily married how I kept myself away from home, not wanting to return. And how when I moved into a house where I felt happy with my life, the location, architecture, trees and weeds growing around – when I would return home I felt glad to be there. This was a new experience and a good sign.Now I live in an unfinished inside-outside house surrounded by fields, cows, corn, horses, campesinos and good neighbors, and I am so grateful.

I used to begrudge this house’s cement floors which are ugly and impossible to keep clean. I used to whine about having to walk so far to get up to town for water, food or transportation. I don’t know why, but I’m happy here now. I love my life, what I see and hear when I’m at home: roosters, birds, workers, insects, tree frogs.

I thought to be happy I needed more physical comfort. Perhaps what accounts for my current ease is this:

Being with what is without judgement allows for a comfort which radiates from inside.I struggled for years to be approved of. I gave others (my culture, my father in particular) power to set me free or not. I had my eyes outside of me, looking towards my life with projected judgement.When I was preparing to travel in Guatemala for five months I knew it would be challenging for me not having a home, a place to come back to, where I had a sacred space set up. I told myself that the only way this would work is with the attitude, “Whereever I am, is home."

What's Between You and Your Dream?

I have followed a path of conscious simple living for over twenty years.

Many times my decisions have felt easy and free of doubt – like riding a bike to work and bringing my lunch from home in recyclable containers. Then there are other situations, like creating my life and a livlihood from scratch in a rural mountain village in México, that are at times frought with fear and doubt. I see this as a spiritual malady on my part, and also as a result of messages from my culture about wealth, money, security and success.

People have told me I’m brave.

They’ve admired me and proclaimed, “I could never do what you did.” My response is always, “My life was not so different from yours. It’s a choice. If you want to do it, you can do it, too.”

9 Questions to Ask if You're Not Living in Your Dream Home

1. How much of what keeps you from doing what you really want in your life stems from the opinions and judgements of those outside yourself?

2. What messages have you picked up from your family and culture?

3. What power do you continue to give away to people and groups outside yourself?

4. Does that serve you?

5. What would it feel like to view your life from the inside?

6. What’s at risk if you do?

7. What’s at risk if you don’t?

8. What would it be like to put your hands over your heart, close your eyes, and feel your life from the inside of you, for just a minute?

9. What small action can you take right now to nurture seeing and claiming your life from the inside, the heart of your homb?

After childhood, noone has the right or power to decide how we live.

The View is Better From In Here

Living so on the edge, choosing a life so consciously uncertain, I have often felt the terror of no home base, nothing to call home. The fundamental issue is feeling safe in the universe. Safe with the free fall of complete and constant mystery and change.

Where is the security? That is what I have sought for these years and that is why I dedicated myself to the training and practice of Shambhala meditation: to find home and safety in a place which is unmoving and unchanging, in the core of my being where I belong.

It took years, but I can now say that most days I am no longer bound by the opinions and judgements of others. (More, I am plagued by my own self-criticisms, but that’s another piece of my work!)

I am learning to see my life from inside. And when I am there, I feel how being inside my life is coming homb.

]]>Sun, 02 Aug 2015 06:05:44 GMThttp://www.takegoodcareofyouwellness.com/blog/on-movement-and-changeFor the past two years I have been spending half the year in the states to be near my elderly mother. Going between places is trying for me. As much as I don’t want to and am not aware of attaching myself to the reality of wherever I am, I must do it, because changing places is both frightening and unsettling for me. Especially coming home to México. Odd because it’s the place I love, yet it’s been difficult to return each time.

I share with you this reflection from the first year I returned home from being in the states for seven months:

Today was my first day going out into Nature. I knelt down and touched a rock and the dirt path that the local campesinos (farmers) use to go out to their fields by horse or foot every day and wept. “Why does it take me so long to get here?” I lifted my head to the green, earth and sky and simply said that which I have been afraid to proclaim since my return: This is the place that feeds my soul.

I wanted to head towards the river and bathe on a rock. On the trail, I passed by the spot that was my destination. Not seeing a clear path down, I decided to head down and around to another path that would take me there. On the path there were many options. To the left, to the right. I was relaxed and unconcerned about making the right choice and keeping track of those little decisions. I was casual in my approach. I passed through a part that reminded me of the time several years ago that I went out by myself, in the heat of the year with little water and a few seeds to eat and got lost. I thought it might be the death of me. When I had been trying to navigate my way back to what I knew, I often started down paths that seemed trodden and hopeful, only to turn back with fright when they petered out. I remember I didn’t want to get lost. Of course I was already lost. I just didn’t recognize it.

﻿I experienced how time and repetition had been knitting knowing, trust and comfort into my being.﻿ “All the paths come together and will take me to the same place in the end,” I knew. How different was this walk from walks in the past where I would hang bits of toilet paper on bushes or arrange long sticks on the ground into huge arrows to see and guide me at every juncture on my return home.I didn’t see the alternative path down to the big river rocks and ended up high up instead. I glimpsed a patch of yellow white sunlight on the path and decided I would stop and sit there awhile. The roar of the river was faint. I listened to it. What is the nature of a river, I pondered? Movement. A stick fell from a tree. Movement. A bird sang. Sound is vibration which is movement, too. Is movement everywhere in everything in life? What about stagnant water? Is there movement there? Mosquitos which bring disease lay their eggs there. With time, which is movement, everything changes. I felt propelled to get up and turn back.

The rumble of the river below grew louder and I renewed my search for a simple way to it and found one. I took off my sandles, put my feet in the cold current and looked up river to where the water was rushing and felt it’s force and power. Looking down river, viewing the flow from behind, all seemed calm and easy, no hurry. Just like the process of letting go, before and after. During? Cold feet immersed feeling the push, yet solid enough to not get swept away.﻿I got up and continued on the path towards home.﻿ I walked on large round stones that had been placed to ease the walk of men and horses at some point and wondered, “Where am I now?” I didn’t know but I did know I was walking in the right direction, towards where people lived. I wondered, “Could this be the part where one is returning home?” It seemed too soon but after a few minutes I was climbing back up and recognized a bit of broken tile amongst the rocks and dirt and realized, indeed, I was almost home. Sometimes I am further along than I think.

We Live on A Planet of Change

The other day in the combi (a converted VW van which serves as the local transportation) I watched a boy sitting near the open window, his dark straight hair fluttering in the wind. “Kids and dogs,” I mused, “always like to have their heads hanging out the window.”Not liking wind myself, I wrapped my jacket a little tighter around me for protection. “What’s that about?” I asked myself. “Why do dogs and kids like to feel the wind so much?”My thoughts stopped with the arrival of a primordial awareness: There is wind. We live on a planet where the air moves. I’d never thought of that before. “It could have been different,” I thought. “We could have been on a planet with no wind, which was still. From where does it come, this impulse of air to move?” The magic and mystery of movement revealed itself to me and I was full with a simple, universal truth of life on planet Earth: We are not part of a stagnant life. We are part of a changing one.Do you take movement for granted? How well do you deal with its implications? Do you like to stick your head out the window when someone else is driving? What is it about that?

I invite you to share your thoughts and reflections on wind and dogs and kids and rivers, flow, and attachment, and change. I look forward to hearing from you!